Get With the Program
by SeroDTempest
Summary: AU. Fetch Walker isn't a good kid, nor is she a bad one. Delsin Rowe is a kid with an aerosol can and a head full of dreams. Put the two of them on a bus to "Delinquent Boot Camp" together, along with their shared hatred of being labeled, and see where it takes them. Mutlichap, mild spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**As it so happens, I'm in a writing mood today. Might have something to do with the Game of Thrones marathon, but this idea has been festering in my head for a while. Plus the lack of Delsin/Fetch is mildly disappointing. This is an AU, and it doesn't follow the timeline exactly, and there will be mild spoilers. Be warned. **

"It's the pink hair." Fetch's brother, Brent, piped up. To be fait, there were several different questions that Fetch could have asked to get that response. There were several situations that might stem from her brightly colored hair. But running way from a teacher for getting caught skipping class was not either of those scenarios.

"What?"

"The hair. You asked why the teachers always catch you. The hair. It's practically neon."

Fetch sighed. "So I'm guessing you're mad."  
"No no. It's only the fifth time in a week that I've gotten a call about you skipping class. You know-"he lowered his voice "You know what's gonna happen if you keep doing this. They'll call Mom and Dad-"  
"I know what'll happen, Brent." she cut him off.

"Then why-"  
"Just drop it, Brent."

* * *

Abigail Walker was many things, but "easily influenced" was not one. Yet that didn't stop her principal from writing those two words on a piece of paper, which somehow made its way to the hands of a county sheriff. But that didn't explain why she was sitting in said sheriff's house.

She would have preferred an interrogation room. But some well-to-do guy's house that with a teacup in her hands? Nope.

Apparently, the guy's name was Reggie, and she was sitting in his house because he thought she reminded him of her brother.

"Delsin Rowe?" she sputtered. "Spray tag it and bag it Delsin?" She'd heard of him (who hadn't?) for his artwork (though illegal he knew his way with a spray can) and for his rumored attractiveness. She'd never seen him, but his playboy rep preceded him.  
The dude sighed, putting his cup down. "Is that his new nickname?"  
"Outside of here? Yeah."

"Son of a-DELSIN!" Reggie thundered. Fetch heard muffled groaning, and then what sounded like a pillow hitting the ground, then footsteps.

"Reg, it is a Saturday, and barely two' o clock. Why are you yelling?" the kid who Fetch assumed was Delsin muttered, walking into the room.

Fetch was not a boy-crazy girl. Not by a long shot. But she would not deny the rumors of Delsin's attractiveness in the slightest.

"Oh, you didn't tell me you had company, Reg. I'm Delsin Rowe." He said, sticking out a hand,  
"Fetch Walker. I've heard of you."  
He raised an eyebrow."Have you?"  
"Yes, she has, Mr. "Spray tag it and bag it"." Reggie scowled.

"Hey, if people give me nicknames based on my artwork-"  
"Art is when someone pays you to draw or paint or whatever. It's not vandalizing property!"  
Delsin took a breath. "I'm assuming you didn't invite Fetch here to yell at me in front of her."  
"No, I didn't. Fetch is the "other delinquent-".  
"Feisty side, huh?" Delsin winked at her.

"-that I told you about."  
"Wait, wait. This is about criminal camp?"Delsin demanded.  
"It's a reformatory school-"  
"Why am I here then?"Fetch cut in.  
Reggie looked at her. "Your brother didn't talk to you?"  
"No. What about reformatory school?" Fetch asks.

Delsin scoffed "It's a camp in the middle of fucking nowhere for "delinquents". It's supposed to show us the "error of our ways."  
"It's a beneficial program-"  
"Aw, save it. I'm going to talk to my brother." Fetch muttered, storming off.

* * *

"I think the program will do you some good, Abigail. You've been getting into a lot of trouble..."  
Normally, Fetch would argue, but today she stared at her oatmeal instead. She'd slumped into bed the second she got home, despite it being early afternoon.

He was sending her away.

Ever since they escaped what she called their parents' tyranny, she and Brent had been on the same page for just about everything. Yeah, Brent was the "adult" by a couple of years, but that was a legal label more than anything. But now he was just sending her off?  
Yeah, she skipped. A lot. That didn't mean he could just…ship her away.

"…And you could use some-you're not eating." Brent said, looking at her full bowl.

"Can't bring myself to do it. My big bro doesn't want me around, tends to damper my appetite."  
"It's not like that, and you know it."  
Fetch flicked spoonful of oatmeal at him. "Seems a little steep though. I skip some classes and you send me to delinquent boot camp with Delsin Rowe."  
"Delsin's going? Deliquent Delsin?"  
"Dude's got a way with spray cans." Fetch grinned. "Plus, he's pretty cute."  
Brent put his head in his hands. "No."


	2. Chapter 2

It was entirely possible that Fetch could have entered "delinquent boot camp" without _that _much bias, but three things happened that made her hate the place even more before getting there. 1. She had to get up at four thirty in the morning to catch the bus 2. The bus was an old, creaky junker driven by no other than Reggie Rowe, the sheriff, and 3. She and Delsin were the only people on the whole goddamn bus. It was like a slap in the face; like she and Delsin were the only fuckups in a ten mile radius.

Though she supposed the third thing wasn't that bad, because Brent's face had been totally worth it. Maybe telling him that she thought Delsin was cute was a bad idea, because Brent looked like he was going to have a heart attack once he realized it was only going to be her and "Mr. Spray tag it and bag it".

Plus, Delsin was a pretty cool guy. Once you got past the vandalism and the playboy reputation. But honestly she couldn't really talk, since she could count the amount of times she'd gone to class in the last month on one hand.

But since his brother was driving the bus for the hour long ride to Nowhere, Washington, she didn't since next to him. Partly because they kept arguing, and partly because Reggie kept calling her Abigail, which was Brent's thing, and no one else's.

Well, it had been their parent's thing too, till Fetch messed up that _one_ time and her parents were ready to haul her in, without hearing her out or even trying to listen. No one would listen, except Brent.

Without Brent, she'd probably be rotting in a cell somewhere. He'd ruined his potential prestigious life so she wouldn't spend part of hers behind bars, and she doubted she could _ever_ repay him for that.

So maybe he was right, that her skipping and threatening to tear the fragile box that she and Brent were hiding from their parents under, the one Brent had thrown away his life to build. Brent had once had a good future, a good life ahead of him. So she figured the least she could do was not complain.

So she was in the back of the bus, music blasting from her headphones, suitcase tucked under the seat. Her suitcase had the basic necessities; clothes, toothbrush, and a dog-eared copy of _Jane Eyre _tucked in the outer pocket.

Apparently she hadn't tucked the book away as well as she thought, because when Delsin came to sit near her, he grabbed the should-have-been-well-hidden book.

"Jane Eyre?" he scoffed, looking at her.

She blushed, reaching for the book back, but he kept it out of her reach. "Shut up."

"I mean, I guess I can see why you'd read it." He said, thumbing through the pages. "It's like the female version of _The Catcher in the Rye."  
_"You read _The_ _Catcher in the Rye_?"Fetch had to ask.

"He read it and loved it!" Reggie called out from the front.

"Eyes on the road, Reggie!" Delsin yelled. "We're not about to die because you like telling people I can read!"

"I'd think most people would know you can read, Delsin." Fetch said, still grabbing for her book.

"You'd be surprised. Some people see or hear about your minor vandalism and peg you as an idiot. What're you in for anyway?" Delsin asked, still keeping the book away from her.

"If I tell you, can I get my book back?"  
"Maybe." He grinned.

She sighed in defeat. "Fine. I skip class. A lot. "  
From the look of disbelief on Delsin's face, she knew he didn't believe her.

"Bullshit." Delsin snorted, confirming what she thought. "Skipping? You wouldn't be here for skipping."  
Fetch raised an eyebrow. "Actually, that is why I'm here. Are you disappointed?"  
"No, I just thought… anyway, you wanna know why I'm here?" he asked.

"I know why you're here. Now can I get my book back?" she said, once again grabbing at the book.

"I don't know… Maybe if you say please." He grinned down at her, lifting the book just out of her reach.

"_Say please_? What, are you five?" Fetch asked.

"I still draw on walls, so, maybe." Delsin said, still with that ever present smirk, not missing a beat.

"I hate you." Fetch deadpanned.

"No, you don't. In fact"-he moved closer to her-"I think you like me."  
Fetch scoffed. "Yeah, totally. "She muttered, waiting, then lunging for the book when she thought Delsin was distracted.

Turns out, Delsin wasn't distracted. At all. He moved the book out of the way just as Fetch moved for it, causing her to land, arms stretched, in his lap.

"You sure you don't like me? 'Cause from where I am, it's looks like you like me." Delsin said.

She got up, dusting herself off. "You're a jackass, you know that?"

"I've been told. What are you listening to, anyway?" he asked.  
There were several songs that could be playing from her phone, considering she had her music on shuffle. There were at least three hundred songs on her phone, and maybe ten of them were guilty pleasure pop songs. She hoped that whatever song was playing wasn't one of those ten, as she put her headphones back in her ear, to be met with the sounds of Heart-Shaped Box.

Delsin grabbed one of the earphones before grinning. "Nirvana, huh? I had you pegged as a rock chick."

Delsin stayed there, hogging the other earphone, even after the song ended, and she silently prayed that none of the three One Direction songs she had played before they got to boot camp.

And of course, One Thing just had to play five minutes before Reggie said they were almost there.  
Delsin said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.  
"It's a guilty pleasure, dammit!" she defended. He didn't say a word, but just shook his head slowly. But soon enough, the song changed to Come as You Are.  
And maybe it wasn't all bad, sitting next to a small town delinquent and blasting rock music in a beat-up old bus.

**Ahh, another week has flown by. Didn't think this needed to be said, but I do not own any of these songs, or Nirvana. Or One Direction.**


End file.
